


No Words

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-30 00:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16275779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: When Daryl, Rick and the reader are captured by a group of armed men, they are challenged in more ways than one.  Will they escape their captors?  And will they find each other again before it’s too late?





	No Words

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was an anonymous request on Tumblr from waaay back in April...
> 
> ‘Could you do a daryl one where Rick Daryl and reader are in a run and they get captured by some guys, and they are being held when the guys decide to take them back to their camp, when they are about to move Daryl Rick and reader give each other a look and reader ships her head back and headbutts the guy behind her and takes a knife and kills him, but when she turns around guns are on them all…. turns out the guy reader just killed was his brother and as they are leading Daryl and Rick away he shots reader, she kinda dodges it and gets shot in the side and falls down a hill, and she has to try and find Daryl again, she eventually passes out from blood loss but Daryl finds her and stops the bleeding and saves her life!!! Sorry it’s so long!!! Xxx’

The first thing you were fully aware of was cold, hard concrete beneath you, the chill seeping through your clothes and turning your skin to ice.  The next thing you felt was pain.  Rope bit in to your wrists where they were bound behind your back, your joints aching in protest from being held in the unnatural position, and your head throbbed with the after effects of the blow that had knocked you unconscious.  What the hell had happened?  One minute you’d been strolling through town with Rick and Daryl, alert for any of the undead that might stumble across your path but confident that it wouldn’t be anything that you couldn’t handle.  You were good at this now, the three of you.  You had it down pat, picking a small town somewhere out on the back roads, getting in and out quickly having swept it for whatever supplies it had to offer.  And then, whack!  You vaguely remembered hearing the heavy thud of footsteps behind you, but the impact had come before you could even turn around.  And now, here you were.

A cough from beside you distracted you from your discomfort and you cracked open your eyes, murmuring a curse when the light from the window made the pain in your head intensify.  Another cough and you glanced to your right, stifling a gasp as you took in Daryl’s bruised and bloodied state, his wrists tied as yours were, leaving him just as helpless. Beside him, Rick was in just as bad a way, and you guessed that your attackers had taken you out first, giving the guys an opportunity to put up a fight.  Not that it had done any of you much good.

Whoever it was that had captured you, they were nowhere to be seen now, though you could hear the low rumble of voices coming from somewhere in the building, hear the shuffle of movement in a room behind you.

‘How many?’ you managed to croak, though your throat was dry, your mouth parched.

‘Six from what we can tell,’ came Rick’s distinctive Southern drawl.

‘Assholes came out o’ nowhere,’ Daryl grumbled, his eyes narrowed and fierce.  ‘Reckon we did some damage ‘fore they took us down though.’

‘You’re looking pretty damaged yourself,’ you pointed out.  ‘Both of you.’

‘What about you?’  The archer’s gaze was scanning over you, his concern evident.  ‘That was a hell of a blow to the head ya took out there.’

‘I’m fine,’ you reassured him, though you knew he could sense your pain.  You’d been doing this together for so long now that you could read each other without words.  ‘Who the hell are these guys?  What do they-‘

‘Enough talking!’  You were interrupted by a loud command issued from a filthy-looking man who had rounded the corner to glare at you, aiming a kick at your boot to ensure that you got the message.  He had long, dark hair that hung in lank, greasy strands around his face and his skin was sallow and streaked with dirt.  ‘We’ll be asking the questions seeing as we’re the ones with the guns.’  He shot you a malicious grin, revealing rows of yellowing teeth and you fought the urge to recoil, knowing that it wouldn’t make things any better for you.

He was soon joined by a motley crew of comrades as they filtered out of one of the other rooms and into the area where you were still huddled on the floor, twisting your wrists and feeling a glimmer of hope when the rope binding you seemed to give a little under the strain.  It seemed neither Daryl or Rick were having much luck getting free but, if you could regain the use of your hands, you might actually have a chance of getting out of there.

‘So,’ the apparent leader of your attackers continued, oblivious to your escape attempt, ‘you look like good, well-turned out people.  You got a group around here?  A camp maybe?’  When he was met with silence, he shook his head, sighing loudly.  ‘You’re only gonna make things worse for yourselves if you don’t tell me what I wanna know.’

‘It’s just us,’ Rick bit out, but even to your ears it sounded unconvincing.

‘Now, see, I don’t believe you.  We followed you into town, see, so we heard you talking about others.  Glenn maybe?  Carol?  And a baby?  Hell, what sort of idiot brings a baby into this shit?’

Rick’s jaw clenched as he fought to rein in his temper and Daryl answered instead, snarling the words with his head bowed.  ‘People we lost.  Ain’t no one left but us now.’

‘Bullshit!’

‘It’s true,’ you spoke up, praying that by presenting a united front, you may be able to fool these monsters into believing your story.  They didn’t look like the sharpest tools in the box, but these days that just made them all the more dangerous.  ‘We had a camp but it got overrun.  We lost everyone.  They’re all dead o-or worse.  We got out and we’ve been drifting ever since.’

‘Now, that’s funny.’  He crouched low in front of you, studying your face, trailing a finger over your collarbone and down your arm.  ‘You all look awful comfortable for people without no camp.  You’re clean, you sure as hell don’t look like you’re starving, got a few canteens of water in your packs…  Hell, it looks like you’re living like kings.’

‘Well, we’re not,’ you snapped.  ‘Please, just let us go.  We’ve got nothing to offer you.’

‘Oh sweetheart, don’t sell yourself short.’  The man shot you a lascivious wink and you felt nausea rise up in your throat.  ‘I’m sure you’ve got a hell of a lot to offer.’

A low growl rumbled from Daryl’s chest, seeming to prompt the group into action as the leader eased himself back to his feet and nodded to his men to advance.  Suddenly large hands were on you, hauling you upright and shoving you towards the door, barely catching you in time when you stumbled.

‘Looks like it’s plan two, fellas!  We’ll take them back with us.  Reckon their people will show up looking for them sooner or later and I’m sure we’ll be able to convince one of them to be a little most open about what they’ve got to share!’

‘We already told you, we’re alone!  No one’s gonna come looking for us!’ Rick argued, struggling against the hold of his captors.

‘And I already told you, I call bullshit!’

 

* * *

 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been walking, the steely metal of a shotgun muzzle pressed against your spine if you dared to slow your pace.  The men around you chatted easily, discussing sports teams and whiskey brands as if the world hadn’t ended some months back.  Not that you minded – their conversation served as a distraction, so that none of them seemed to notice when your rope loosened a little more, allowing you enough room that you knew you could ease your hands through when the right moment came.

You quickened your step, drawing level with Daryl who was marching along, his gaze fixed to the ground, unwilling to let the men around him see the anger and fear that were building within him.  When he felt your presence beside him, he glanced up and you let your eyes dart to the side.  With an incline of his head, you realised he’d grasped your meaning. The slight shrug that followed told you he was still tightly bound and unable to help if you were to make a move.  You nodded, letting him know that you’d wait for his signal, let him and Rick make the call before you started a fight that you wouldn’t be able to win.  A whole plan put into motion without a word spoken.  You didn’t need words, the two of you.  You fell back again, ensuring that you were positioned a few paces ahead of the man with a deadly looking knife tucked in to his belt. Now, that you could use.

As the group reached a narrow pathway that had been worn along the top of a ridge that dropped down to the river, bordered on the other side by a steep climb up to the treeline, you were forced into single file, funnelling along the worn track, slowing to a crawl as you navigated the uneven surface.  This would be the perfect place, you thought.  Even with their hands tied, if the others could use their weight to shove your attackers over the edge, it would at least even the numbers a little, give you a fighting chance.  As if he’d read your mind, Daryl glanced over his shoulder, giving you a look that could only be taken one way.  It was time.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you ripped your hands free of their bindings, coming to an abrupt halt and throwing your head back, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction when you felt bone shatter under the impact as a strangled cry left the throat of the man directly behind you. He was clutching his nose as you span, already reaching for the knife which slipped free from his belt more easily than you’d hoped, before thrusting it forward into his gut, driving the blade upwards with a sickening squelch as blood began to bubble from his mouth.

‘Stop!’  You turned, swinging the knife wildly, ready to fend off the next attack, only to find Rick and Daryl forced to their knees, guns held to their heads as the group’s leader scrambled over them, uncaring of the steep drop beside him as he let out a bellow of rage.  ‘No!  Dustin!  That was my brother, bitch!’

Time seemed to slow as he raised his gun, his finger hovering over the trigger as he lined up his shot.  You were trapped, unable to turn and run with the body behind you and the dead man’s comrades blocking your way off the path.  The only escape was to throw yourself into the rocky, swirling water below and hope for the best.  The loud crack of the shot forced a scream from your lungs and you lurched sideways, the ground disappearing from under your feet as you plummeted downwards, arms windmilling as the river rose up to meet you.  It was shallower than it looked from above, the impact as you hit the ground forcing the air from your lungs as the water tried to drag you along in its fierce onward current. The sharp surface scratched at your skin, tearing at your clothes as you clawed your way towards the bank, struggling to find your footing on the slippery rocks, gasping for breath as panic and pain overwhelmed you.

Finally reaching the grassy slope on the other side, your fingers dug into the mud as you pulled yourself free, immediately on edge as you rolled on to your back, knife raised, eyes darting up to the pathway where you were sure you would see the group with their shotguns raised, ready to pump shells into you in deadly revenge for what you’d done, but there was nothing.  No one.  Your attackers, along with Rick and Daryl, were gone.

 

* * *

 

Your legs were growing heavy, your head swimming as you forced yourself to keep moving.  You’d been walking for hours now, snaking through the woodland, trying to catch up with the group that had disappeared with two of your people in tow.  You had to find them.  You had to get them out of there.  But your vision was dimming and it was getting harder and harder to put one foot in front of the other.

It’s Rick, you told yourself, over and over.  Rick and Daryl.  You had to help them.  You had to know that they were safe.  God, you had to save Rick, but especially Daryl.  Daryl Dixon.  The man who had taught you how to hunt, how to kill, how to survive in this world that seemed to try to tear you down at every turn.  The man who had let you lean on him when you’d seen your family torn apart by the walkers that had staggered in to the quarry camp, leaving death and carnage in their wake.  The man who didn’t say a word when you snuck in beside him in the middle of the night, needing the steady sound of his breathing to lull you to sleep.  You couldn’t do this without him, not any of it.  Though you’d never admit it, Daryl was your reason for living.

You pressed a hand to your side as another wave of pain threatened to drag you under, cursing softly when it came away bloody.  You’d thought the shot had missed you completely, that the agony that pulsed through your body was a result of the fall but, when you’d lifted your shirt to inspect the damage, it had been saturated with blood.  The bullet had caught you, ripping a gash above your hip that refused to close up, worsened by your jolting movements as you stumbled onwards.

Your eyes were drifting closed now, your body slumping to the ground as your life force continued to drain away, the sticky red slick that you left behind on the leaves beneath you as you tried to take cover beneath the bushes a brutal sign of the reality of your situation.  You were losing blood fast, Rick and Daryl were God knows where and nobody else would know where to find you.  It was over.  You were done.  As your brain shut down, blood loss sending you in to a deep slumber, the last image that flashed across your mind was of a handsome redneck, with a crooked grin and eyes the colour of the Georgia sky.

 

* * *

 

There were hands on you, moving over you gently, tentative but probing, peeling your tank top from your skin.  There were voices, soft but fraught with panic, low growls of frustration and kind words whispered, blending in with the wind as it rustled through the trees.  There was pressure against your side, sending spasms of pain through your body, persistent even as you tried to twist away from the force.  And then there was your name, spoken in a low rasp, the voice like gravel, and the scent of cigarettes and leather filling your nose.

‘Y/N?  It’s gonna be okay.  I got ya, alright?  Ya jus’ gotta hold still for us now.’

There was something so familiar about that sound and, when you forced your eyes open, blinking dazedly into the gloom, everything fell into place.  Daryl.  Of course, it was Daryl.  He was here, cradling you in his arms, his tender, calloused touch a stark contrast to the fingers that were still digging in to the wound on your side.

‘Daryl?’

‘Hey man, she’s awake.’

Rick’s face came into view as he leant over you, giving you a tight smile. ‘Welcome back.’

‘Wh-what are you two doing here?’ you stammered, unable to process that they were really there in front of you.  ‘What happened?  How did you get away?  I was trying to find you but-‘

Rick hushed you, quietly, returning his attention to stemming the blood that still flowed from your side, leaving Daryl to fill you in.  As he spoke, you finally registered his battered state, his eyes bruised and swollen, his lip split and a vivid red cut across his cheek.  ‘Bastards walked us right into the middle of a herd.  Walkers did half the job for us.  Managed to get one o’ their knives ‘n’ cut ourselves free.  Didn’ get away without a fight though.’

‘I can see that,’ you observed, quirking an eyebrow at him.  ‘I’m glad you’re okay.  You are okay, right?’

‘Can’ believe yer askin’ that when yer bleedin’ out on the ground, Y/N.’

‘I was looking for you.’

‘Ya shoulda been tryin’ to get yerself back.  Ya coulda died out here.’

‘I had to find you, Daryl, both of you,’ you added when a frown crossed his face.  ‘I couldn’t go back without you.’

‘We need to get her back to Hershel.’  Rick’s voice was strained and you saw the look that passed between him and Daryl.

‘Rick-‘

‘Hershel will know what to do, but we’ve gotta move now.’

‘M’sorry,’ was Daryl’s only warning to you before he hoisted you up into his arms.  Rick moved with him, pressing his sodden shirt against the wound, unable to relieve the pressure even for a minute.  ‘Yer gonna be fine, Y/N, I promise.  I ain’t gonna let ya go.’

And then they were running, both of them, propelling you through the forest at alarming speed, each step jolting your torn-up body and making you cry with the pain.  Daryl’s shout of relief was the last thing you heard before everything went black once again.

 

* * *

 

You’d never spoken about that day, about the intensity you’d seen in Daryl’s face as he gazed down at you in his arms, the way he’d stroked away your tears as you lay with your head in his lap in the back of the truck, the way he’d sat by your side as Hershel worked on you, cleaning you up and stitching you closed.  You hadn’t needed to.  You hadn’t talked about how you’d continued in your mission to get back to Daryl even as you slowly bled out, each step agony, each minute that passed bringing a fresh wave of exhaustion.  You hadn’t talked about the slow but steady migration of his things into your cell or the soft kiss that he’d pressed to the back of your shoulder as he’d crawled into your bunk that first night.  You hadn’t talked about the millions of other kisses that you’d shared in the weeks and months since, or the first time that he’d peeled your clothes from your heated skin, tracing his lips over the scar above your hip, the stark reminder of the time that he’d nearly lost you.

Words hadn’t seemed necessary.  Your connection was unspoken and that seemed appropriate given that Daryl Dixon was a man of few words.  You’d come so close to losing each other and perhaps it was that that had broken down that final barrier between you.  And now you loved each other, certainly and with a gentle strength that needed no discussion or explanation.  Instead, you showed each other through a thousand different looks, through the gentle brush of fingers over skin and the warmth of two bodies curled around each other in the stillness of the night.  The two of you didn’t need words.  You never had.


End file.
